“I’m afeared she’s gone,” shouted Slag to the coxswain, putting his hand to his mouth to prevent the words being blown bodily away.
“No—I see her bearing sou’-west,” was the brief reply, as Bob Massey plied his steering oar.
A few minutes later, and the despairing people on the wreck, catching sight of the boat, greeted her with a long, wild cheer of reviving hope.
“What is it?” asked the widow, faintly, for she had been growing gradually weaker from prolonged exposure.
“The lifeboat, darling,” said her father. “Did I not say that He would not forsake us?”
“Thank God!” murmured the poor woman, fervently. “Look up, Lizzie; the lifeboat is coming to save us!”
The child, who had been comparatively warm and sheltered, at the expense of her mother, looked up and smiled.
Soon the boat was alongside, and much the same scene that we have already described was re-enacted; but there were no rebels this time. By the captain’s resolute bearing at first many lives had probably been saved.
When most of the people had been lowered into the boat—not without great risk and many bruises—the widow, who, cowering with her father and child under the forecastle, had been overlooked, was led to the side with her child.
“Not together, ma’am,” said the captain. “You’d likely drop her. Let me lower the child down first; or come first yourself—that will be better.”